


30 in 30 Drabble Collection

by verucasalt123



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: 30 Days of Writing, Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, Gen Work, Het, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash, Spike-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:07:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: 30 Spike-centric drabbles. No graphic sex or violence. Hope you like them :)





	30 in 30 Drabble Collection

**Yesterday**

He’s been counting all summer, not even on purpose. His mind helpfully supplying the amount of time she’s been gone. How long she’s been dead.

It’s almost five months now. Twenty one weeks, not including today 

Cleaning Buffy’s injuries, terrified and blissful, he answers her question. 

_Hundred and forty seven days, yesterday._

There wouldn’t be any more counting now. Yesterday was the last day she was gone. 

Spike can’t think of the inevitable consequences to come as a result of her return. Not just now. In his hands are her hands. He’s going to keep them right there.

 

**Smile**

Wesley’s contemplating his current situation as he watches Spike sleep. He’s not quite certain what had been so different last night. It’s not like he hadn’t seen Spike smile before, in Sunnydale and more recently here in LA. 

There was just something different about the smile Spike had directed his way the previous night. It definitely had a new intention behind it, and Wesley had been delighted - he’d been developing an attraction for a while. 

Now they’re sharing a bed, after several hours of wild sex. And Wesley’s heart is already, maybe foolishly, caught up in Spike’s cheeky, beautiful smile.

 

**Moonlight**

A wedding by moonlight - lovely. It was also directly for Spike’s benefit. So he could witness what was, up until now, likely the most important event in Dawn’s life. 

Spike was one of the most important people in Dawn’s life. The promise he’d made to her sister turned into a genuine friendship over the years. 

There were little photos of the happy couple printed on namecards. He kept hearing _pretty as a picture_ from other guests. 

But no picture could capture Dawn’s beauty as Spike cut in on another guest and danced with her under the perfect moonlight.

 

**Sunshine**

It’s been well over a hundred years since Spike has known this feeling, but he welcomes it back with all of his soul. 

For almost as long as he can remember, he has walked the night. He belonged to it, collecting all of the blood he would need to survive the day. 

Today, there’s sunshine in a clear blue sky. Spike’s still a bit cautious, wondering if the gift will be taken from him. But it’s not. He sits alone, the blood inside him all his own, warm and real. He’ll never have to take it from someone else again.

 

**Clouds**

Reclined on the rooftop of their current home, Drusilla was indulging in her latest obsession. With the full moon and the bit of light coming from the Spanish town they were currently terrorizing, it was easy to see the clouds at night. 

Dru stared up, an excited look in her eyes. Spike prompted her, “Tell me what you see then, Kitten.”

“A bird, see, over there? Oh! That one looks just like Miss Edith! And this one to the east, a poor, dead, broken little girl. What a splendid night, my love.”

Spike looked up. All he saw were clouds.

 

**Snow**

It wasn’t a two-person job, collecting some artifact from a cave in a completely desolate part of Russia. Damn thing wasn’t even guarded. Did Angel think he couldn’t do this alone?

At least Charlie was entertaining, Spike thought. And one of his few real friends.

“Will you hurry your ass up with that? I’m freezing my manly parts off out here!”

Gunn had never seen snow in person. He’d have preferred his first experience to be a bit less extreme. Maybe a ski slope, not the actual tundra.

Laughing, Spike tucked the artifact into his pocket and lobbed a snowball. 

 

**Sing**

From the doorway, he sees Spike wearing headphones. He’s singing and Wes feels like he’s eavesdropping but he can’t help it. 

_No other road, no other way, no day but today_

When Spike realizes Wes is there, he turns off the music and looks expectantly at Wesley.

“ _Rent_?”

“Better than Charlie’s Gilbert & Sullivan”, Spike replies. 

“You have a beautiful voice”, Wes says, surprise in his tone.

“Thanks, don’t tell The Host, okay?.”

Neither of them know Lorne doesn’t need to hear them sing to know what’s been brewing in their hearts. Two hallways down, he smiles.

 

**Books**

The entire thing was ridiculous, in Spike’s opinion. He was being held captive in the apartment of a librarian. A _Watcher_. He’d already lost enough, and he was bloody sick and tired of all of the neutering jokes.

He couldn’t hurt them, and they all knew it. So why did he have to be locked up and hidden away? 

Really, the only solace Spike had at the moment was the fact that Rupert had about a thousand books.They weren’t all tedious and boring, which he had expected. 

Spike reached out for the next book in the pile.

 

**Grave**

Stalking down the street after the confrontation in front of the house, Spike fumed. He should have guessed. Who would believe he was just doing something decent? Something respectful for a woman he cared for greatly?

The funeral wasn’t possible, what with all the bright sunlight. After it got dark, Spike saw Angel there with Buffy and went off looking for a demon to kill.

It was a whole night later when he finally sat at Joyce’s grave. Alone. Because he wasn’t trying to _score points_ , he wasn’t trying to impress Buffy. He just wanted to say goodbye.

 

**Boyfriend**

The temptation was almost impossible to resist. Spike forced himself to settle for a _don’t try any bullshit_ type of expression instead of taking him aside and scaring the living daylights out of him. 

It wasn’t right, though. Dawn was getting older and despite his instinct and his protective feelings for her, she certainly had the right to a social life. Go to movies with Janice, dance at the Bronze like her older sister had done in high school. 

Even the right to spend time with her _boyfriend_. As long as she was home before midnight.

 

**When I'm Gone**

Lying in bed, Spike turned toward Angel and asked, “Do you ever think about it? Like, if something happened. What you would want.”

Angel frowned. “You mean if I got dusted?”

“Yeah. We have been difficult to kill. Hell, I self-immolated in Sunnydale and ended up alive. But that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

“I haven’t given it much thought. How about this? When I’m gone, you get all my stuff.”

Spike reached over to take Angel’s hand. “Alright, same for me, then.”

Angel leaned in for a kiss and said, “Rather have you, though.”

“‘Course you would”, Spike replied.

 

**Laugh**

He was the best one on their team suited for it; Spike understood that. But they had practically unlimited resources. Angel could have found another way to _test_ Illyria’s power. Maybe something that didn’t require him to be punched in the face repeatedly.

They all missed Fred. But Illyria hadn’t taken her from them on purpose. Spike could relate to Illyria in a way the others couldn’t. He wanted to help her. They chatted after sparring, mostly Spike answering her questions about this world.. 

The first time Spike heard her laugh, he figured he was doing all right. 

 

**Hide**

As the years, then the decades, and now more than a century have passed, you’ve always found a way. 

In the shadow of your mother’s skirts. Under the covers of your very own bed. Behind your bloody awful poetry. Beneath your cruelty. In the crevices of the swath of bodies left in your wake across countless counties and towns and countries. 

Now you’re doing it again. This time it’s a leather duster, cigarettes, vulgar language, words designed to injure more than any bite ever could. 

Even all of those things can’t hide the real you. Not anymore. Not from her.

 

**Pain**

Spike woke slowly, not sure if he’d opened his eyes yet. Everything was dark. 

Not exactly sure where he was. 

One slight stretch of his hand, and the pain shot through every inch of his body. 

He caught sight of Wesley, on a chair next to him, wherever they were. 

Wes looked exhausted. He had that wrinkle in his forehead, the one he got when he was worried. 

“I’m doing everything I can for the pain until you start healing.”

Well, of course he was.

Spike didn’t know what happened, but Wes was there. That meant everything would be fine.

 

**Photograph**

Due to an astounding combination of planning, blind courage, and pure dumb luck, Los Angeles had survived the Senior Partners’ attack.

His friends had not. 

The crew from Sunnydale were scattered. Reassigned. Moving on. 

Spike didn’t have much to bring along when Angel finally convinced him to leave, that they could start over somewhere new. 

He did have a rumpled photograph. Fred, Wesley, Charlie, Lorne… so casual, happy, smiling for the camera over a table of Chinese takeout containers. A completely unremarkable moment, honestly. 

The photo went back into his pocket as Angel took his hand and led him away.

 

**Weakness**

The Council possessed an astonishing amount of information about William the Bloody. After Angelus’ mysterious disappearance, _Spike_ had a great deal of their attention. 

All reports painted the picture of a wholly depraved creature. No remorse. No regard for who or how many he killed. A remarkable ability to escape every attempt on his life. A soulless monster, completely unstoppable.

Spike kept his weakness hidden. No Watcher ever imagined he was romantic, sentimental, capable of boundless love and fierce loyalty.

Not until now, Wesley thought as he watched Spike sleep. Wes didn’t see it as a weakness anyway.

 

**Alone**

Spike is frustrated, again. Not surprised, just annoyed. Sitting on the back steps of her house, he closes his eyes and lets Buffy finish making her point. 

“I can take care of this, and that’s what I’ll do!. It’s _my_ responsibility, Spike! I’m the Slayer!”

Adapting the most patient tone he can manage, he agrees. “Yes, it is, and yes, you are. But you don’t have to fight this alone. You don’t have to carry this alone.”

She stops pacing and sits beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. She wipes a tear and whispers, “I know.”

 

**Spinning**

Taking a break from dancing at The Bronze, Dawn saw a cute boy headed her way. He handed her a glass of water and they started talking. 

Then she felt weird. She couldn’t focus, why was she so tired? When she stood up, everything was spinning. The boy was guiding her outside, maybe for fresh air? 

Dawn felt and heard her blouse rip. She saw a blur, heard loud noises, slid to the ground. She didn’t notice the blood on Spike’s hands when he picked her up. 

She did hear him whisper, “You’re safe now, Bit”, before she passed out.

 

**Roads**

A whole damn apartment full of _potentials_ , not a single one of them over the age of eighteen. Spike had volunteered, and it was fine when they were training or studying or listening to everything he said. 

It was the free time that drove him a mad. In Sunnydale, it wasn’t just him and eight moody brats. He hadn’t had to entertain them. But she had kissed him when she asked, and kissed him again when he agreed.

For Spike, it wasn’t Rome, like the old saying. For him, it was _all roads lead to Buffy_.

 

**Comfort**

Turning up at Wolfram & Hart, Spike thought (just for a minute) that he might be okay there. He had lost so much in Sunnydale, and he was tired. Wrung out.

He was wrong, of course. His time was difficult, especially after he got his body back. Terror and exhaustion and violence were almost constant. 

No one else knew that he and Angel spent their sleeping hours together. The others would surely know eventually. But for now, during the rare quiet times, Spike and Angel could take comfort in each other’s arms at the end of a night filled with fear. 

 

**At Last**

Everyone was just standing. Staring. There was no sound at all. Shock, of course; disbelief of seeing Buffy’s lifeless body on the ground. 

At last, Buffy had done what many monsters, demons, and people had tried and failed. She died on her own terms, to protect her sister, the person she loved more than anyone else in the world. . 

The silence was broken and the witnesses turned toward the sound. 

What they saw was Spike, collapsed, his head to the ground. He was sobbing uncontrollably. 

No one thought to console him, not that he expected it. It would be impossible.

 

**Let Her Go**

Xander and Anya were waiting there in the shadows next to the emergency entrance at the hospital. 

Spike was grateful for the part of him that made it possible to get Dawn to safety. He hated that his nature made seeing it through an impossibility. Blood on his hands and clothes. He couldn’t risk being questioned by police. 

When he saw how Spike was close to tears, even Xander softened a bit, looked into his eyes. “Hey, she’s gonna be fine. Thank you.”

With a last kiss to Dawn’s head, Spike moved toward Xander’s outstretched arms and let her go.

 

**Toys**

You want to learn from your new family. It seems everyone has their own ways to get their meals. 

You watch Darla, ruthless and vicious, dispatching her victims with perfect efficiency. You see your beautiful Drusilla take her time; feeding a bit, then whispering or kissing before she takes another bite.

Angelus is different. He toys with his prey. Some he fucks first. Others, he pretends to let escape before they're back in his deadly embrace.

Over time, you stop trying to emulate Angelus and develop your own habits. Your old _bloody awful_ nickname develops a new meaning. 

 

**What Lies Beneath**

Spike’s been watching. He doesn’t want Buffy to think he’s stalking her, but he knows something’s coming. There’s a price tag on magical resurrection, that’s one thing of which he is certain. 

What he absolutely does not expect is that she chooses to share her secret with him. She’s doing it to protect her friends, of course. Buffy doesn’t want them to feel guilty for ripping her away from the peace she found in death. But she has to tell someone.

She keeps up a pretense with everyone else, but she’s willing to show Spike what lies beneath the mask.

 

**Purpose**

For over a century, Spike thought being a vampire meant he was one of a fortunate chosen few. When it was just the four of them, no one seemed interested in turning people, only torturing and eating them. 

Years later, killing a Slayer in China was power like nothing he’d ever known. It would be decades before Spike took down another, but he knew he was meant for it. 

The chance of a trifecta brought him to Sunnydale.

Spike thought maybe his real purpose was to love a Slayer, and to die for her.

Until he woke up in LA.

 

**No Place Like Home**

After everything that happened in Sunnydale and Los Angeles, Spike longs to get away for a while. Back to his roots, where it had all started.

Leaving the plane, he has a flashback to a movie he’d watched with Niblet years ago. _if I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with_

Looking at the London skyline, Spike blends in with the night and heads into the city. After all, there’s no place like home.

 

**Never Forget**

Spike had never taken the prophecy very seriously, the idea of a monster becoming a man instead of the other way round.

So when it happens, he’s suspicious. He stays alone, very slowly learning to trust the sunlight. It takes a bit before he finds his way to Buffy. Inevitably, their mutual attraction comes back to the surface.

He’ll never forget the look on her face when she finally asks, “How old are you?”

He laughs, he hadn’t thought about that. “Reckon I’m twenty-eight again.”

Buffy smiles up at Spike, kisses him, and says, “Cool. No pesky age difference issues.”

 

**Wasting Time**

First it’s petty bickering, then it’s full-on arguments. Spike and Wesley are both taking themselves very seriously. 

To everyone else on the team, it looks like pulling pigtails. There’s a betting pool for various events - who’s going to make the first move, when they’ll stop wasting time and just fuck already, whether they’ll try to keep it secret. 

They enter the conference room one day, purposely not walking in together. Spike’s hair is liberated from its gel and Wesley’s shirt is half-untucked in the back. 

Gunn hands Lorne a twenty. 

Angel rolls his eyes.

Wes doesn’t understand why everyone’s laughing. 

 

**You're The One That I Want**

Days later, Spike still has the words _I’m sorry William_ on his mind. He’s moved past crying. Now, it’s just quiet and his heart hasn’t begun to recover. 

When he catches her scent, he turns to face Buffy without speaking. Coming back here after...it’s damned cruel. 

She starts talking immediately. “I was wrong. Maybe it is selfish, but you’re the one that I want, and being with you isn’t weak. I don’t care who knows.”

Buffy looks like she’s afraid of rejection. That’s not happening. Maybe it’s his own weakness, but he’s not passing up this chance.

 

**Hard To Resist**

It’s no shock that Angel and Spike’s relationship can be...volatile. Capricious? Passionate. When things are good, they’re _really_ good. 

When things are bad, everyone stays clear of the storm. It never lasts long. Angel is slow to admit fault, but when he does, he apologizes and they talk. They work things out. 

Spike quickly takes responsibility for his actions. Sitting down to talk can wait. He lights candles. Runs a bath. Pours Angel’s favorite whiskey. Sweet talks him into bed and blows his mind. Angel hates to admit it, but Spike’s tactics are terribly hard to resist.


End file.
